


interlude - the gallery

by petitepeach



Series: maybe it starts now [3]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, M/M, and this is the show, eliott is an art student, i know i can't believe it either, these tags are a mess so is the author so is the fic, this is also where lucas is going Through It, use of italics is truly out of control, y'all know what's up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitepeach/pseuds/petitepeach
Summary: it's devastating, to look at someone and realize,you could ruin me





	interlude - the gallery

**Author's Note:**

> hey mecs
> 
> so this is a pretty big departure from what the series has been so far, but i wanted to test out smaller interludes in between the larger, more episodic pieces. idk if i've pulled it off asdfjkddj
> 
> also this is one of the angstiest things i've personally ever written, based entirely off of my own anxiety, and how my brain tends to function in relationships. hopefully it happens realistically? turns out the mind is a super tricky thing to convey in words
> 
> i hope you guys like it - here we gooooo

Lucas is drinking cheap red wine, standing in the middle of a big room in a gallery in a disgustingly hip end of Paris, when he realizes that Eliott Demaury could break his heart.

But wait—we’re not here yet.

Three days ago.

Three days ago Eliott asked him to come after the brunch at Imane and Manon’s apartment, where there was no shortage of spilled coffee and tired, hungover eyes, chairs squeezed into every inch of a kitchen table groaning under the weight of overflowing plates and bowls. Eliott had followed him outside, scuffing his sneakers against the ground, hands in his pockets, _I asked you last night, but you may have forgotten? You’ll be there, right?_

Stupidly, all Lucas could respond with was, _Isn’t everyone going?_

Idriss loudly mentioned the art show during the meal, everyone falling over themselves to congratulate a blushing, smiling Eliott. Lucas had been sitting next to him, unable to look away from how shy Eliott became under the gang’s praise, how sweet he was when he mumbled a soft _thanks guys_.

Lucas had been physically holding himself back from gently squeezing Eliott’s knee under the table, from running an encouraging hand down Eliott’s arm, from tugging Eliott’s face down close to his to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, _I like you so much. How is it possible I like you this much?_

Lucas held himself back without fully knowing why, or at least without wanting to think too much about why. From the very start he's been throwing himself at Eliott, obvious in his feelings, his desires, so caught up in having Eliott want him in return, in the whirlwind weekend they spent together, in the way he feels when Eliott touches him. He was so caught up in it, that there wasn't a moment for him to second-guess himself, for doubt, in all its darkness and persuasiveness, to whisper in his ear, _Are you sure?_

(Was it something to do with Michel, a college student to Lucas’ high school junior. Lucas’ first time. Also Lucas’ first experience hearing the words, _you didn’t think I meant_ together _together did you_?)

Lucas cut himself off before he could fully go there because _no_. No. But he’d still spiralled into that thought like a paper plane in a nose dive, and that’s why, when Eliott followed him outside of the girls’ apartment, he hadn’t known what to say apart from, _Isn’t everyone going?_

Eliott had shrugged, the one where his shoulders stay scrunched after the motion. _Maybe. But I’m asking you. I want you to come_.

Lucas had said, _Oh_.

After that it was three days of obsessively checking his phone, of being disappointed when there were no texts and throwing the device across his room like a grenade when there _were_ texts.

Three days of sporadic but sweet messages from Eliott, asking Lucas how his day is going, sending Lucas a picture of a drawing he did, of a raccoon on a beach, sunning itself on the sand.

Three days of _Look, clearly he’s into you, he says he wants to see you, why can’t you enjoy this like a normal person?_

And here, _here_ , Lucas arrives at the gallery alone, late because he took the wrong bus and got lost, nervous because he changed four times before he left his flat and he’s sure his hair looks absolutely ridiculous.

The front of the gallery is small and packed with people, students and professors and parents, and Lucas hovers awkwardly by the entrance until he’s spotted by Idriss, who immediately hands him a glass of red wine and pulls him towards the back, down a corridor to another room with a high ceiling, wide white walls covered in artwork, and it’s like the crowd parts because there he is, wearing all black and drinking from a bottle of water and talking with a small group of students.

 _Eliott_.

Lucas wonders if he said that aloud, because he looks up and immediately sees Lucas and Lucas’ entire world view narrows just to that, to the smile on Eliott’s face when he notices him. Everything else—the steady drone of conversations, the clinking of glasses, the pressure of Idriss’s fingers around his wrist—fades to blurred sensations at the edge of his mind.

Idriss tugs him all the way over, practically shoulders his way into the semi-circle around Eliott to present Lucas. _Look who’s here_.

Lucas says _hi_ and Eliott says _hi_ and one of the girls in the circle giggles and says _are you going to introduce us to your gorgeous friend, Eliott?_

Eliott’s eyes snap over to her and he says _this is Lucas_. And Lucas waits, not knowing what he expects to hear, but when Eliott says nothing else he turns to the girl with a half-smile because she complimented him but she also said _friend_ and Eliott didn’t correct her.

Well, they are friends, aren’t they?

The girl laughs because her name is Lucille, and _isn’t that funny? Lucas and Lucille? They could be a carnival act_.

Lucas doesn’t think it’s that funny but he laughs because the girl seems nice, her smile kind. She gently taps her wine glass to Lucas’ and says to Eliott _well, why don’t you show him your work?_

Eliott does—he takes Lucas to one corner of the wide, tall room, shows him four canvases filled with lines, shapes and colours.

One of them is big, really big, and Lucas is mesmerized by it, by the way he can pick images out of the strokes of pale green and deep blue and twenty different kinds of grey, by the way there’s chaos but an order can be found if you’re looking for it, if you want to see it. Lucas thinks it’s breathtaking. He asks Eliott what it’s of, and Eliott hesitates, just for a second.

 _It’s called Lost and Found_ , he says. _The smaller ones are a series. I call them Mindscapes. Do you like them?_ He asks.

Lucas knows next to nothing about art, avoids the Louvre like a nuclear site because of the tourists, but he does, he really does. He think it’s like he’s standing inside of Eliott’s brain, and it’s so so beautiful. _Yeah. I do. They’re incredible._

Eliott is pleased by that, smiling so wide his eyes become those sweet half-moons and Lucas finally lets himself take a full breath for the first time since he arrived because he didn’t correct her when she said _friends_ but Eliott is smiling at Lucas in a way that says _something serious_.

Of course, Lucas also knows _something serious_ isn’t the same as _this is my boyfriend_. He knows, he knows, he knows. They haven’t talked about that.

It’s only been a few days, anyway. They said _something serious_ , but they’re new, and the heart is an ebbing and flowing tide, Lucas knows, he knows, he knows.

But Eliott wanted him to come. Wanted him to see.

 _You must have worked so hard on these_ , Lucas says to Eliott, and Eliott shrugs like it’s nothing, and it occurs to Lucas they haven’t touched yet and suddenly his fingers are twitching, skin searching for skin, _Eliott_.

He reaches a hand out slowly, runs a finger down Eliott’s forearm so gently, tracing along the veins there.

 _They’re amazing, Eliott. Really. I don’t know if it’s right for me to say they’re beautiful. But I think they are. Beautiful_.

His breath catches with the way Eliott looks at him.

 _I’m so happy you came_ , Eliott says. Then he’s reaching out and pulling Lucas into a tight hug. _I’m sorry I’m being weird. I was so nervous_ , he whispers into Lucas’ ear. _I was nervous for you to see this part of me_.

Lucas returns the hug and thinks about how there’s not a single part of Eliott he doesn’t want to see. To know.

Someone’s calling Eliott’s name across the room and Lucas sees a tall, elegant woman with long, greying braids waving Eliott over. _My supervisor_ , Eliott says. _I’ll be right back_.

Lucas nods. _That’s fine_ , and watches Eliott leave, watches the woman smile as Eliott approaches, introduces him to an equally elegant man standing next to her.

It’s funny, how Lucas is standing in a room full of painted canvases and Eliott can still take all of the colour with him when he leaves.

And that’s where we find ourselves, as Lucas stands there holding his glass of wine, waiting for Eliott to return and he can just make out the back of Eliott’s head, can see it duck low on his shoulders as he listens to someone intently. Lucas can picture the expression on his face, a small smile, clear eyes, and—

It’s devastating, to look at someone and realize, _you could ruin me_.

It’s devastating for Lucas, who’s spent the last three days convincing himself that whatever was going on with him and Eliott was temporary, a _something serious_ that was only as serious as Eliott wanted it to be, only as serious as extended party hookups can ever be.

But if Lucas lets his mind run free, lets himself give into the very idea of Eliott, he can see his feelings for Eliott coming towards him like an apocalyptic storm and Lucas knows there’s a reason hurricanes are named after people he knows, he knows.

Lucas drains the rest of his wine, makes a face at the taste, and thinks about diving into Eliott’s giant painting. Maybe he can make a home for himself underneath the smudged lines, can wrap himself up in Eliott’s brushstrokes and fingerprints, and stay there. Unobtrusive. Unnoticed.

Maybe Eliott will know he’s there the whole time, but he’ll let Lucas stay anyway.

Lucas sees Eliott coming back towards him, sees him carrying two wine glasses and searching for Lucas in the crowd, and Lucas thinks, maybe he’s an island and Eliott is a hurricane but they’re also both boys, creatures of bone and blood who are tied to the present like all humans are.

Maybe Eliott could ruin him.

But maybe—

_Hi. I brought more wine. Do you want to see the rest of the show?_

Maybe being ruined wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it here, i sincerely thank you.
> 
> seriously!! thanks for reading pals :'))))
> 
> very curious to know everyone's thoughts on this section. was it cool? not cool? let me know!
> 
> you can also always come visit me on tumblr [@lepetitepeach](https://lepetitepeach.tumblr.com) even if you just want to cry together


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